Destined for Two
by Gryff inTheGame
Summary: Dark/Fluff Hermione and Marcus are awaiting death at the hand of Voldemort. The Dark Lord, however, has another plan. Not willing to accept the destiny Voldemort has chosen for them, Hermione prays to the fates. Fortunately, Hermione and Marcus find themselves at a crossroads. Their true destiny awaits in another world... I own the plot. Bunnyhops owns the prompt. JK Rowling owns


In response to a prompt in the HH_Bunny_Bounce collection on A03.

Thanks to my beta Mr Benzedrine for being a "word-cutting Queen," and cutting through my bullshit. The word limit was a struggle! Thoroughly enjoyed this challenge. Gifted to Bunnyhops for submitting this prompt.

Triggers: Torture, lemons

 **Prompt:**  
"Voldemort has won; everyone she loves is dead. Hermione is on her knees, awaiting death, praying to the Fates that they intervene. They do, but not the way she expects. The three Fates weave the tapestry of life and have disposition over the length of human lives and the pattern they produce. Hermione is invited to join the incarnation of Fate." Kinks: light BDSM/smut is always good, a happy ending, Hermione needs to be smart-competent -waaaay above average, and her men should be smart, too.  
Squicks: Please NO graphic rape, child abuse, or animal abuse.  
Additional Notes: If Hermione ended up as Mother Nature in the end, that would be cool too. hehehe

* * *

 _The sound of deranged cackling echoed the surrounding grounds of Hogwarts. Countless bodies laid motionless, strewn across the battlefield._

 _It was the ugly aftermath of war._

 _A handful of students were alive, none of which were in any shape or form to fight. There was no doubt in her mind they severely lacked the skill needed to prevail against Voldemort. Others endured a very long, drawn-out death. Either way, it was all pretty horrific to witness. These were people she'd spent the most part of her life with._

* * *

 _Hermione's eyes scanned the grounds, ceasing when they fell upon a survivor, Marcus Flint._

 _Despite Marcus being bruised up, he seemed to be well and truly athletic Slytherin had been repeating his final year at Hogwarts, an act in which she'd suspected he deceitfully obtained to keep his place on the Quidditch team for another year. It made sense. Stay another year and further advance his chances of playing professionally. A typically cunning move, no less, and one she didn't doubt was planned most meticulously, given the snake's reputation to be rather clever. He'd always had impeccable grades._

* * *

 _Hermione's thoughts were disrupted by a large thump next to her. Fenrir, dropped Marcus's body, appearing to rush off on the hunt for more survivors. Death Eaters were most likely outraged Marcus fought on the "wrong side," and it seemed he was about to receive punishment for it._

* * *

 _Marcus didn't wait for an awkward silence, wanting to distract himself from his impending death. Now wasn't the time to be picky about how he spent the remaining minutes of his life. Gryffindor's "princess," beauty and the brains, was next to him, experiencing this with him...he didn't give a rats arse she wasn't of "pureblood." Her intelligence and loyalty was something he appreciated. He couldn't ignore the way she pursued anything in life with sheer determination._

 _All qualities he similarly possessed._

 _If he wasn't currently bound, he'd make his last fuck a good one and take Hermione right here, right now._

* * *

" _Granger."_

" _Marcus."_

" _You okay?"_

" _Not really. Are you?"_

" _As good as one can be, given the fucked up state of things. Sorry about Potter."_

" _Please, don't. I can't think about that right now," she pleaded._

" _Sorry if that was insensitive," he said apologetically. He meant it._

" _No, that's okay. I'm sorry, I should have taken that for what it was. Thank you."_

" _You're thanking me? For what?"_

" _Being a human being."_

" _I'm offended you thought I wasn't one. Most Slytherins have a conscience, you know. It's our choice not to show it."_

" _Thank for showing me."_

" _A time like this calls for it."_

* * *

 _Hermione laughed. Short, sweet, honest. She felt guilty expressing a moment one would interpret as joy. It couldn't be farther from it. It was mixed nerves at the moment they shared and guilt, given the situation._

 _Their moment was short lived, having found themselves being interrupted by Bellatrix Lestrange._

* * *

 _Bellatrix took her place directly in front of Hermione, a murderous glint in her eyes while she spun a bloody dagger in her fingers._

 _Hermione stood her ground. Although she was paralysed by the fear of being defenceless, externally, she was defiant as ever. Yes, she was bound by chains. But while she was still living and breathing, despite all odds against her, she would not surrender. She appreciated that she was no longer alone, feeling the eyes of Marcus bury into her._

* * *

 _Bellatrix stood face-to-face with Hermione, a look of utter disgust at the boldness of her. She was repulsed by her mere presence._

" _You've lost everyone you love, Mudblood. You have nothing to be smug about; you don't deceive me," retorted Bella spitefully._

 _Bellatrix stood so close to her that Hermione could feel a rush of air brush her face. She silently choked, feeling threatened by the dark witch condemning her to contamination. The smell was a repugnant combination of mephitic vapours: sulphur and aniseed, which, coincidently, matched her rotted teeth. She opted to hold her breath—an attempt to avoid inhaling Bella's putrid soul. Everything that came out of the witch's mouth was revolting, and what made it worse? The stench lingered with her close proximity._

* * *

 _Bellatrix was appeased by Hermione's reaction. The obvious invasion of her space clearly made her uncomfortable, so Bella proceeded to press her further. She swiped her tongue across her exposed, decaying-teeth, wanting to fuel Hermione's fire._

" _I used this knife on him, you know. Your little Ginger boyfriend. In fact, it was this very blade that killed all of the Weasleys. Potter wasn't so lucky. He endured the most excruciating death. His last words to me were—"_

 _Hermione had enough of the vile witch. At the mention of her friends she felt her throat seize, and salvia began to pool in her mouth. She snapped—her courage: ruthless. She spat on Bella's face in utter disgust. It was an oddly satisfying act of defiance, one she was sure would guarantee her death._

 _She sensed a smirk as Marcus muttered, "The muggleborn knows how to play dirty. I like it. Are you trying to get yourself killed quicker, though?"_

 _Hermione chuckled briefly at the accuracy of his prediction. She was fire playing with ice, but she didn't care if the evil witch burned._

* * *

 _Bellatrix was sickened by Hermione._

 _Using her wand to remove the "filth" from her cheek, she angrily addressed Hermione with a crazed rage. "You stupid girl! How dare you spit your filth on me!"_

 _Failing to be patient in her wait for the Dark Lord, Bella's arrogance bestest her. The blade of her trusty knife slashed Hermione's cheek in one swift swipe, the effect of it causing her to flinch as the cut filled her with a raw burn. All she could hear was Bella's chuckles as she was struck with a spell to make her fall to her knees._

* * *

 _Hermione was set upon by Fenrir Greyback. He licked his chops in delight at the sight of her: mouth salivating to taste. She supposed it would be a nice change from the rotting animal caucuses he'd been feasting on as of late, due to the depleting magical folk in this desolate world of theirs._

* * *

 _Marcus watched on, feeling inner turmoil at the scene unfolding before him. He actually wanted to help her, but his hands were tied._

* * *

 _Fenrir wasted no time stalking her: circling his prey, getting off on intimidating her as her blood trickled down her cheek._

" _Well—my, my little girly. Ve-e-ry nice!" rasped the werewolf while he licked his lips so slowly it was obscene._

 _Hermione shuddered. She was already severely weakened from the torture she'd endured during her capture, but she had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot worse._

" _Finally, scraps on its knees for me! I prefer to play with my food before I rip out their throats. Luckily for you, girly, I'm famished and impatient."_

 _Fenrir gripped her cheek, being sure to dig his long, yellowish claws into face. He was lapping the blood off her cheek before being interrupted by Voldemort._

* * *

 _Voldemort's bare feet glided across the glossy, marbled floor. His red, wild eyes reflected at her and Marcus. Hermione avoided raising her head to meet him._

 _He glared at his inferiors on either side of them, disgusted by their haste._

" _You fools! The girl belongs to me!" he shouted, displeased by his servants disobedience. A wave of his hand had Greyback catapulting into a wall. "Do you really think I'd offer 'you' a piece of Potter's Mudblood?" he retorted. "Learn your place, beast! Begging for scraps at my feet like the filthy creature you are!" Voldemort reproached Bellatrix for her actions. "And you. As my most loyal servant, I expected more of you. Unfortunately you have proven to be unworthy of the privilege. Everyone is expendable, Bellatrix."_

 _Bellatrix pleaded, "My Lord!"_

"Avada kedavra _."_

 _Bella collapsed into a lifeless heap of nothingness on the floor. Another swipe of Voldemort's hand sent her deceased remains toward Fenrir. He pounced on them, welcoming the generosity of his Lord as he chowed down on what was once Voldemort's most trusted servant._

* * *

 _Voldemort tried to intimidate and antagonise Hermione._

" _Potter's Mudblood no-more! What a pleasure, indeed."_

 _The mention of Harry felt like a fresh stab wound to her heart. Angered by his death and Voldemort's lack of remorse, her fear subsided as she was met by his feet._

" _Look at your superior, girl!"_

 _Hermione felt the magnetic pull of his magic force her head upright. His power proved much greater than her heart of gold and goodwill. She wanted to stand, face him and set fire to his black heart. She was certain his "heart" was nothing but a charred lump of coal filling the void of where the organ once lived._

 _Unfortunately, her weakened state rejected such a confrontation._

 _She remained on her knees, shamelessly before him, unable to stand her ground in his presence. Her honey eyes met the evil slits of his. They were terrifying, eyes void of soul, despite the residual fragment that lingered. It triggered a surge of courage, although brief, and it resulted in her response being delivered with malice._

" _Your pleasure, Voldemort. Not mine."_

 _His eyes stayed trained on hers while he began pacing back and forth, as though weighing up his options. He paused in front of Marcus, glaring with disappointment, having expected so much more from the Flint bloodline._

 _He didn't take long to decide their fate._

* * *

 _It all happened so quickly Hermione didn't know what came first. The echo of his haunting voice or the excruciating pain pulsing through her limbs. It was far more powerful than any cruciatus curse she'd experienced._

* * *

 _Marcus had the same reaction. His face was far from the controlled, unemotive Slytherin Hermione once knew. But he appeared to understand exactly what "this" was._

* * *

 _Hermione wasn't aware of her forearm being exposed to Voldemort's wand until the pain level was explosive; the realisation was quickly setting in as to why. Electricity surged through her body, rolling in waves and crushing her sensory nerves. The burning, pulsing feeling travelled to one place in particular: her left forearm. "No!" shouted Hermione, feeling panicked by the strange smoke-like vapour pouring from his wand. The opaque smog emitting from his wand swirled and twirled. Two snakes danced, wrapped, and wrestled with each other before parting and making their way to her and Marcus's left forearms. She tried to pull away, but the strength of the curse's power tripled tenfold._

 _It felt as though her arm was going to burst. Her body began to convulse due to the increasing pain, but her only concerns were Marcus and her arm. It was now pulsing as if it had a heartbeat of its own. She tried to look at it, but her vision blurred as her subconscious fought for survival. Hermione, was drifting in and out consciousness._

* * *

 _Hermione thought of all her hopes and dreams._

 _Surely, she was destined for more than a life imprisoned by dark magic? How could she live with that "thing" cemented into her? She refused to concede to defiling herself with the mark of someone who mercilessly wiped out everyone she's ever known. 'Please,' she thought, 'If there is such a thing as Fate, don't let my end be here. Not now. Let the Fates hear my prayers...'_

* * *

 _Hermione felt dizzy as specks of her surroundings faded to nothing. If this was the life fate dealt her, she would rather die. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her awareness was faint. One blink: her eyelashes fluttered open—one last act of defiance. She aimed a helpless look of regret at Marcus. Second blink: her lids fell, much like the plummeting weight of the world on her forearm. She struggled a third half-blink before the darkness enveloped her. If this was death, she welcomed it with open arms while faint whispers and a gust of wind brushed passed her._

* * *

 _Hermione and Marcus awoke in limbo, lost somewhere between the past, present, and future._

 _Looking around, it resembled King's Cross Station, with the addition of hundreds of souls in their corporeal form floating aimlessly around them. Hermione gasped at Marcus' shimmering soul, forcing her to realise that she too, was as light a feather and transparent._

 _The Master of Death himself was walking along a boundary line in waiting...watching like a vulture stalking his prey._

 _On the opposite side—beyond a train track, three old hags that resembled something she read about in Greek mythology stood dressed in togas with a godly, yellow light shining down on them. Hermione felt a gravitational pull towards them. She was attached to a gold, glinting string, its length getting considerably shorter as she drifted toward them. Marcus was being lead that way by his own, yet their ankles seemed to be linked by another "string." A red one._

* * *

 _Hermione and Marcus stopped within metres of their destiny, at the crossroads of their fate._

* * *

Hermione wakes abruptly in between her husbands in a peaceful, earthy-wooden bed, surrounded by a weave of vines and lush greenery. The sound of birds can be heard chirping outside the open window. Outside, an orange-hued sunrise brightens the sky over the Kingdom they rule together. She is aware of the forest calling her: the effect of her mother-earthy instincts to the restored and flourishing city of Gondor. She is known more formally in this realm as: "The white-witch, Queen of Gondor," or more simply "earth-mother," which she insists upon, since they tend to stick to titles in this world.

It's a destiny fate regarded her heart and talents worthy of having.

* * *

The limbs of her husbands: Marcus and Aragorn are wrapped lovingly around her. Never in her wildest dream did she imagine she could be destined for two.

Her husbands aren't oblivious to her waking, seeking to start their morning ritual off appreciating such a blessing: their love, life, and union.

Aragorn's manly hands caress the left side of Hermione's body, appreciating every inch of his lady love.

On her right, Marcus's soothing voice whispers a sweet, "Good morning, love," in her ear.

Hermione shudders in response to the affections of her men, thoroughly enjoying their attention. Marcus is trailing kisses from her shoulder across her collarbone to the sweet spot on the ridge of her neck. His actions leave her lips craving to be met by the lips of his.

Aragorn is busying his fingers between her legs, exploring the lips of her nether region by rubbing her clit.

* * *

Hermione's breath quickens: ravished by her senses. Her husbands aim to please, and given that there are two of them, failure and disappointment is a very rare occurrence with the trio. This "ménage à trois" understand each other's needs, and today, Hermione's needs are simple. She needs Marcus's cock in her mouth and her King's dick penetrating her pussy from behind. She thoroughly enjoys a ride on the tricycle, but there's something satisfying about the simplicity of pleasure and love when one of them is allowing her to fulfill him with her mouth.

* * *

Hermione interrupts their actions to allow a change of positions. Both men comply with her request immediately. Using magic, Hermione binds Marcus's wrists in vines to the head of the bed. It drives him wild when he can't touch her.

"Feeling a little bit kinky this morning, Granger," he cooes in appreciation of her gesture.

Hermione replies with a seductive wink as she swings a leg over him: straddling his waist. She finds it amusing Marcus continues using her muggle name as a sign of endearment, despite being married to the both of them.

Aragorn is now positioning himself behind her, slowly gliding his fingers in and out of her pussy. His chin is resting on her shoulder, his lips whispering sweet nothings and soft kisses to her.

"Who knew the strings of fate could be so kind?" he hums while taking his fingers out of her, gently pushing her forward.

Hermione angles herself on all fours over Marcus, welcoming him with invitation in preparation to be pummeled by Aragorn. She chuckles, amused by his honest appreciation of the life fate has so graciously granted them.

"Count your lucky stars we were given a choice," she puffs at the feel of his lordly cock inside of her, grinding the lower of hips and gyrating against him.

* * *

Wanting to appreciate her men equally, Hermione dips her head, lips taking the one-eyed snake charming her. Marcus grunts in satisfaction, feeling instant relief at the ministrations of her busy mouth. She swallows his length, adding to the building explosion by cupping a gentle hand to his balls. It's a contrast to the vigorous movements of her tongue and the slamming of his cock deep down her throat.

* * *

Aragorn is pounding her tenderly, wanting to take his time, but he can't ignore the ecstasy threatening to overcome him. His eye contact doesn't waver from Marcus, wanting to ensure his male lover feels the power of his love through his eyes.

* * *

Marcus is torn, switching his gaze from her to _him_ , losing focus on them both as his body succumbs to an intense euphoria. The act triggers Aragorn; he can only oblige the desires of his own, allowing himself to feel the pleasure of Hermione's divine temple.

* * *

There's a growing build in the pit of Hermione's stomach, and it's distracting. Her temperature rises; a fever causes her to relax her mind. She gives in to releasing the vines binding Marcus, allowing him to untangle himself.

He swiftly swoops forward, roaming her body with his fingers cupping her breasts, peppering her chest in kisses. His lips find her nipples, sucking them feverishly. It gives her the edge she needs to come undone...

* * *

Hermione is on Aragorn's chest; Marcus is half covering the back of her body.

"The fates should be jealous by that effort," says Marcus cheekily, lifting his head as if to thank the heavens.

Aragorn chuckles. "Fate couldn't deny Hermione of our love, forever destined for _just us two_."

Hermione smiles warmly.

"We were written by fate into the stars. I was always destined for two."


End file.
